We Shall Conquer
by Creatively Insane
Summary: The Chudley Cannons manager has just quit, lkeaving the team with two options; find a new manager or shut down for good. their only option is a 20 year old girl by the name of Teresa, and with her help they might be able to win once more. lame, huh?
1. Prologue

DISCLAIMER: DON'T OWN ANYTHING AT ALL, except for the plot, Penelope, Alex, Serena, Teresa, and Marissabelle's first names.

disclaimer applies to all chapters.

_Not-So-Shocking Retirement of Chudley Cannons Manager Ragmar Dorkins_

_The Chudley Cannons quidditch team won the league in the year 1892, a win that was to be the last for a long while after they won the league 21 times, total._

_In 1972, the team motto was changed from 'we shall conquer' to 'let's all just keep our fingers crossed and hope for the best'._

_The current team is just as hopeless as the one before, and the one before that one, and so on and so forth. There are four men and three women on the team, the youngest player being Chaser Penelope Parkin, 17 years old, the oldest Beater Alexander Metcalf, 24._

_Seeker Galvin Gudgeon, 20, and his sister, Keeper Gladys Gudgeon, 18, have a somewhat adversarial relationship on the pitch, due to her dedication to the sport, and his lack of focus, as demonstrated in their match againt the Tutshill Tornadoes, when Galvin fell off his broom attempting to catch a passing bumblebee._

_Beater Joey Jenkins is an overly violent 22 year old half-spanish man, who has committed too many fouls to count, and has, this author suspects, been arrested and jailed on charges of assault, issued by a man who may or may not be ex-respected member of wizarding society and convicted death eater Lucius Malfoy, age 44._

_Chaser Dragomir Gorgovitch, record holder for most Quaffle drops in a season, transferred to the team near the end of 1995, after spending almost a year with the Falmouth Falcons, seems much more interested in his appearance and his popularity than with the team, or even with the sport. In fact, when asked what he thought about his record, Gorgovitch replied 'what the hell is a Quaffle?'_

_And the final member of the team is Chaser Serena Fawcett, a new find for the team, recently out of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, age 19, who appears to be a competent and confident player. This reporter presumes she was hired by a team no better than the Chudley Cannons due to her lack of experience._

_Consider what you have just read. If you didn't get it before, I'll tell you straight out now: the Chudley Cannons are, quite probably, the WORST Quidditch team in the history of the sport, and even their fans know it. Apparently so does their manager, Ragmar Dorkins, because he recently announced his retirement, saying 'I've been with the Cannons as long as I can remember, and I was a fan of them before I was their manager. But they're just too bad, it's too depressing to see them play, I'm tired of rescuing Galvin from angry fans, and I quit. I do apologize to Serena though. She's a fairly good player, actually. Better than the Cannons have had in a long time. I hope the team gets a new manager soon, maybe one who can help them actually win a match.'_

_Long winded, but the point comes across clearly. The Chudley Cannons are terrible, and manager, fans, and probably players, are all praying for a manager who can whip the team back into shape, possibly returning them to their former glory and adding another tally to their league win count._

_Somehow I doubt that's going to happen anytime soon._

_Amaretta McLeod, Daily Prophet reporter._

Galvin dropped the paper in disgust and stalked into the changing room.


	2. The Chudley Cannons

Teresa Delaney-Podmore stared at the paper in dusgust and stalked into her mother's living room.

"Ma, did you look at the Prophet's article on Ragmar Dorkin's retirement? It's a blatant attack on the Chudley Cannons, and that's it! His retiring is only even mentioned at the very end, and even that is just an insult! God, I've always hated Amaretta McLeod, she's so biased! Just because her husband is the manager of the Montrose Magpies doesn't mean we're all huge fans, for heaven's sake."

"yes, I saw the article, Teresa. And it so happens I agree with Amaretta. The Chudley Cannons are a horrible team, you and your great grandad were the only fans in Britain, and now that he's passed on, it's just you. Everyone else hates them, Teresa darling, you should just give up. I saw someone selling all their Chudley Cannons memorabilia recrntly in the Prophet, you should do that too. The Tornadoes are top of the league, why don't you support them?" her mother replied.

"because, mother-" Teresa started, and would have gone on had her mother not held up a silencing hand.

"Teresa, you came her for a reason. What was it?" she asked.

Teresa's anger filled face drained of emotion. "oh," she said hollowly. "that. I got fired."

Her mother sighed. "again?"

"yes."

"Teresa, why don't you get a job you like? Work with people you like? That way you'll lose your temper less. And losing your temper less means getting fired less. Tll me, come on, what kind of jobs do you like?" her mother asked encouragingly.

"that's the problem! There aren't any. I'm not the kind of person who likes jobs. I'm not the kind of person who likes anything," Teresa said.

"I know, Teresa, but there must be something you like," her mother said.

"I like the Chudley Cannons," Teresa replied.

Her mother sighed. "is that all?"

"afraid so."

"oh well. Maybe you could work at the broom store in Diagon Alley, what was it's name?" her mother suggested. "oh, it doesn't matter. Anyway, that's Quidditch, isn't it? That might be nice. I'm going into Diagon Alley today, actually. How about I stop in and ask if they're hiring? If you got the job would you try not to lose your temper?"

"sure, Ma. Working at the Quidditch store wouldn't be that bad. I think they sell Cannons stuff. Mostly for people to burn, I think, but still."

Her mother smiled wanly at her. "still. I'll ask."

Teresa gave a smile back, and reopened her newspaper to check the upcoming matches.

"Galvin? Galvin, you here?" Penelope Parkin, the 17 year old Chaser, asked, sticking her head into the changing rooms. He finished pulling his shirt on and he smiled at her.

"hey, Penny. What's Dragomir up to?" he asked.

"looking in the mirror again. He's fond of that."

Galvin smirked. "I'd noticed."

He walked casually into the bathrooms, where Dragomir Gorgovitch, record holder for most Quaffle drops in a season and vainest Chaser on the face of the Earth, stood, gazing at his handsome face in the mirror lovingly as he brushed his shiny blonde hair, making sure it wiggled in exactly the right way.

"HEY DRAGGI!" Galvin shouted, causing Dragomir to jump horribly, swear loudly, and drop her brush. He whirled. In a handsome, well-practiced manner, of course.

"Galvin, you scared me half to death. Don't interupt me while I'm brushing my hair."

He paused.

"don't call me Draggi either. Dragomir sounds more interesting, the girls love it."

"A, I refuse to cease with my incessant calling-you-Draggi-to-irritate-you technique. And B, I won't interupt your hairbrushing if you won't brush your hair when you're supposed to be changing out of your robes and meeting with the rest of the team for a what-the-hell-are-we-gonna-do-about-our-manager-or-rather-our-lack-thereof meeting."

"alright, alright. Where's my clothes?" Dragomir asked.

"in the changing room, where else? Now change, and hurry, or we're gonna start without you," Galvin called, pushing the door open and walking over where the team was sitting around, looking depressed.

"I'd try to be motivational, you know, but I'm not exactly feeling chipper myself," he said, looking around at the players before crashing in between Alex and Joey.

Dragomir showed up a minute later, and sat down next to Penelope, as per usual. She was the prettiest girl on the team, even if she was a ditz. "hey, Penelope!" he said, flashing her a grin. She gave him a smile back, and turned to Galvin.

"what are we gonna do?"

"I don't know."

They sat for a few minutes in depressed silence, before the door opened, slowly, and a small white haired wizard poked his head around the door.

"hello, Galvin, Gladys, Joey, Alex, Serena, Dragomir, Penelope. Wonderful to see you all. I am the owner of your team, and I am here to inform you that unless- that is, until –we get a new manager, the team will cease to play. I'm sorry, but without your manager you'd all be killed in minutes and that would cost me a lot of money."

And he turned and walked out the door.

They all looked at Galvin. He buried his face in his hands and swore, long, loud, and complex. Then he looked back up.

"we're in trouble."

"sorry, Teresa, they just don't have any positions open. I'm sure we can find you a job soon!" her mother exclaimed, looking very sorry.

Teresa smiled. "I've given up. There are no jobs left that I won't get fired from. Now, if they'd pay me to be a Chudley Cannons fan, that'd be the life. The could put me in the zoo, with a little sign marked "Chudley Cannons Fan, Endangered Species' with a little guide reciting all the info on me, like my name, age, whatever, and pointing out all my Chudley Cannons stuff and the fact that I was wearing an orange T-Shirt, and people would gawk and take pictures…"

"you're getting complex and detailed again, dear."

"sorry, mom. But really, can you imagine a job where they paid me money to watch the Cannons play? That's be great."

Her mother's face lit up. There were dark clouds of misgiving hiding the light, but Teresa knew it was there, and she looked at her mother.

"but there is a job like that available, honey!" her mother exclaimed. Teresa looked interested, and the dark clouds progressed farther across her face.

"there is? What?" Teresa asked.

The light went out, but it was showing around the edges of the misgiving-clouds.

"the manager! The one who jus quit! The post is still open!" her mother said.

And everything Teresa had ever worried about went away, and she glowed with a heavenly light, which she supposed she must have stolen from her mother, because the light behind the misgiving-clouds went out like a light. Wait, it was a light. Went out like a...oh, forget it.

"I'll apply right away!" Teresa exclaimed, and apparated away with a sharp Pop.

Her mother, now alone, seemed to be one dak blot of misgiving. She sighed and stared at the spot where her daughter had been.

"well, shit." She said.

Only Penelope was nervous. The rest of the team was irritated, but with the dull hurt irritation they had become so used to, the irritation that was a permanent side effect of being a member of the worst Quidditch team in Britain.

The current reason for their irritation was their new manager. Galvin frowned. He was sure there was nothing wrong with her, as a person, but it was just insulting that the only person who wanted to manage the Chudley Cannons was a 20 year old girl with no experience in the field, who had lost as many jobs as Dragomir had Quaffles.

"Amaretta McLeod wrote about us again. About the new manager," Alex said, his voice piercing the silence.

"what did she say?" muttered Galvin, in a resigned manner that indicated to the rest of the team that he was sick of the news about them but wanted to hear it anyway.

"well, not a whole lot. Just a short mention here. She says 'as to the team everyone wants to know about-no, not the Tutshill Tornadoes-they've added another tally to their list of pathetic moments in history for the Chudley Cannons. That's right, I know you're all staring avidly with a sense of sick fascination. It turns out this bottom of the league team has a new manager, and, sadly, will not be shutting down. A long time Chudley Cannons fan, a Miss Delaney-Podmore has applied to the post, and been accepted. This is a girl barely out of school, with no previous Quidditch experience, except, perhaps, the occasional game with friends on an abandoned piece of land or on her house team. I foresee much failure in the future of the Chudley Cannons, but that's too be expected, no matter the manager, considering the ghastly state the team has been in since the 1880's.'

"that's all, really, but her lack of interest in us is just as insulting as the things she says."

"biased old bat," Serena muttered, swishing her long black hair into a ponytail.

"when's the girl going to be here?" Dragomir asked.

"for god's sake, Draggi, you aren't thinking about seducing her at a time like this?!" Galvin exclaimed, glaring at Dragomir, who glared back and said

"no, I wasn't, my interest was purely proffesional. And stop calling me Draggi, it's degrading enough having the record for most Quaffle srops in a season, I don't have to have a stupid nickname like Draggi as well."

"alright, alright. She'll be here soon, just a few minutes."

Teresa dropped the paper into her pocket, which contained more things than she could count, and some things she'd rather not know were in there. She hated Amaretta McLeod.

She set off at a slow pace towards the main building, or offices, or headquarters, or whatever you prefer, of the Chudley Cannons. She would be meeting them, people she had studied, learned, learned so much more than she did about things in school. She felt like she knew them, but knew in her head she didn't really.

She couldn't just walk in and call him Galvin. It was too familiar. Mr.Gudgeon seemed to submissive, just Gudgeon was too cold. So what to call him? Just introduce herself, she supposed, and check what he called himself. It was the best option she had, she supposed, but still, it seemed flawed. It was flawed, she reminded herself, and set off faster, as if in a hurry to get the torture over with.

She knocked. Galvin's voice drifted out through the door to her. She recognized it at once, from TV interviews, though it was usually raised in anger on them.

"come on in."

She pushed the unlocked door open. There they were, Galvin, Alex, Dragomir, Gladys, Joey, and the new girls, Serena and Penelope. She had seen them before, of course. Many times. Just never this close. Just never spoken with them, never been in charge of them.

Galvin stood up, and extended a hand. "Miss Delaney-Podmore?" he asked.

She took his hand. "yes. Been reading the vile woman, or did someone tell you my last name?" she asked. He blinked a little.

"both," he decided was a safe answer.

"ah. Well, call me Teresa, would you? Anything else and you'll start creeping me out."

"I'll try to keep that in mind," he said, and turned halfway to look at the team.

"Joey Jenkins and Alex Metcalf, our Beaters. My sister, Gladys, our Keeper. Our two new Chasers, Serena Fawcett and Penelope Parkin, and our old Chaser, Dragomir Gorgovitch. Call him Draggi, he loves that," Galvin said.

"HEY!" yelled a disgruntled Dragomir. "jerk!"

Teresa flashed him a smile, knowing for a fact he did not like to be called Draggi, as he had specifically said so during an interview at one time, thoroughly confusing the reporter, who had been talking about something completely different. Teresa thought she understood now.

"and you're Galvin Gudgeon, of course," she said.

He nodded. "Galvin."

That was a relief. She was so used to referring to him as Galvin it would have been odd not to, even as his manager. Dear god, she was their manager.

"we were about to practice a bit," offered Penelope, smiling sweetly. "would you like to watch and get used to our personal approaches?"

She immediately warmed to Penelope. She just said yes and didn't point out that she was already very familiar with their personal approaches, right down to the fact that Dragomir was a fan of the Sloth Grip Roll, Gladys was particularly fond of the Starfish With Stick, and Galvin liked the Wronski Defensive Feint very much, though he had never tried it.

She sat quietly and watched them practice. They were terrible, of course, but she knew that when she signed up. They were her favorite team, and she loved to watch them play.

Though she found her eyes wandering towards Galvin a little too often.

That was another thing that was odd about her, besides the fact that she liked the Chudley Cannons. Most girls who had ever laid eyes on him were madly in love with Dragomir, but Teresa had always liked Galvin best.

She dragged her eyes off of him and watched Dragomir, hoping he would distract her.

He landed for a break as she watched, and walked over to her.

"less of the Sloth Grip Roll, please," she said as he grabbed a drink of water. He looked at her in indignation.

"I only did it twice!" he protested.

"but it's your favorite move, so you're bound to be intending to do it more than that."

He frowned. "how did you know it's my fvorite move?" he questioned.

She smiled. "best damn Cannons fan there is, if you must know."

He laughed, as if this struck him as hilarious. When he finally straightened and his roars had subsided, he gave her a lopsided grin and chuckled. "I wasn't aware we had any fans left at all. What's the betting you're the only one alive today?"

"wouldn't dare. I'd lose whatever cash I have if I bet against that," she said.

He sighed and brushed his wavy blonde hair back. "true. Very true. Which is vaguely depressing," he said.

She frowned and nodded. "yep. More than vaguely. My great grandfather saw the game when the Cannons won the league for the last time. He said it was something very impressive. Said you were a great team once upon a time. What changed?"

Dragomir shrugged. "the players, I suppose. The players got worse, and the reputation of the team got worse, and then the team could only afford to hire the worst players there were. Look at Galvin. The Snitch bounced off his nose twice at the Appleby Arrows match, and he didn't even manage to catch that one."

"true," Teresa said, smirking. "but don't you hold the record for-"

He cut her off with a groan. "you know perfectly well I do, and don't remind me."

She laughed, and he smiled briefly at her before mounting his broom and taking off again. She watched him play, a smile on his lips, and he didn't drop a single thing. She wondered if what they needed was a little confidence. She could do that. She had always been great at giving confidence boosts.

Sort of.


End file.
